


Break It Down

by amathela



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-28
Updated: 2008-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Cameron figures he's got two options; he can run away, and let her know she's won, or he can try to regain control of the situation.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break It Down

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to episode _9:19 - Crusade._

"Give it back."

Vala puts on her best innocent expression (or probably not, Cameron amends; he has no doubt she's actually a very good actress when she can be bothered) as she turns to face him. "Give what back?"

"That quarter you just took."

She holds out her hands, palms open. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. Hand it over."

The innocent act is gone in a second, replaced by a smile and an expression he recognises all too well. "You can search me if you don't believe me."

He'd like to pretend the offer isn't tempting, but he manages to stand his ground. After a minute, she rolls her eyes, and fishes the coin out of her cleavage. It's still warm to the touch when she hands it over, and damned if that isn't going to stay with him.

"Fine," she says, not quite pouting. "It's not like I have any place to spend it, anyway."

He cant help laughing a little at that; he thinks it'd almost be worth letting her keep it just to watch her try to get anywhere with twenty-five cents.

"Don't worry, it's not worth anything." After a moment's deliberation, he puts it back on the dresser; it probably isn't any safer in his pants, anyway.

Vala looks genuinely confused, but at least she doesn't reach for it again. "Then why do you keep it?"

He shrugs. "It's my lucky quarter."

"Does it help?" She steps forward, and he can almost feel the air tighten between them. "You get lucky, I mean."

"It might." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows it was the wrong thing to say; flirting with Vala is like waving a red flag at a bull that's already charging. He doesn't see her move forward, but somehow she's pressed against him, and he figures he's probably already lost.

"I could help with that too, you know." She runs a hand down his chest, and he knows she can feel what she's doing to him, voluntary or not. Her smile is almost predatory, now, and Cameron figures he's got two options; he can run away, and let her know she's won, or he can try to regain control of the situation.

It's no contest, really.

He captures her hand in his as it starts to move lower, letting his fingers dig into her skin. She looks up, and the momentary surprise is all he needs; settling his other hand on her waist, he walks her backwards until she hits the edge of the bed.

"Can you, now?" he asks, and it's more of a murmur, really, as his lips brush the skin on her neck. He feels, rather than hears, her intake of breath, and he uses the momentum to push her back onto the bed.

"You know, this isn't really -" she starts, and he shakes his head.

"Shut up."

To his surprise, she does, and he wonders briefly if it's the first time anyone's followed his orders since he took control of SG-1. The fact that she's not on the team doesn't faze him; he isn't really sure there is a team, at this point.

"Take off your shirt." It isn't much of an advantage, but he's going to press it as far as he can; as long as he's ordering her to do what she wants anyway, he figures it's got a good chance of holding.

She unbuttons the shirt slowly, and he's not surprised that she isn't wearing anything underneath. She slides it off her shoulders, and when she reaches for him, he lets her; by this stage, he figures they're both already broken.

Her fingers twist the buttons of his shirt as his mouth finds her neck again, sliding across her skin to nip at the flesh above her shoulder. Her fingers rake down his back, not quite hard enough to leave a mark, and he's almost taken by surprise when she pulls him down, rolling them over so she's on top.

He'd complain, but as soon as he opens his mouth she leans down to kiss him, and he almost forgets what he was going to say. She slides her leg over so she's straddling him, her fingers working to unfasten his pants, and he lets her slide them partway down his hips before he grabs her shoulders, pulling her down to him again.

She lets out a murmur of complaint as he flips them back over, using his weight to pin her to the bed as he slides his pants the rest of the way off. Before she can move, his hands are on her waist, running up her sides, and he barely hears the sigh that escapes from her lips.

"Now take off your pants," he whispers in her ear, raising himself above her. He's pushing it, he knows, but she complies anyway, and he can feel the heat of her skin as he sinks back onto her. Using one hand to keep himself steady, he traces the other up to her breast, twisting the nipple between her fingers. She arches up, her mouth falling open, and in that moment, he knows he's got her. The victory isn't quite the sweetest thing about his current situation, but he thinks maybe it's a close second.

He feels the jolt in his hips as she reaches down for his underwear, and he lets her tug them down, kicking them off to rest beside his pants. Her underwear is the only thing left between them (red; he definitely approves), and he gives up his momentary advantage to pull them down off her. It isn't a surprise when she rolls him onto his back, straddling him again, but he's almost past the point of caring.

He's definitely past the point of caring when she sinks down onto him, and he lets out a low groan, his hands moving reflexively to her hips. She straightens, her head thrown back, and he'd sit up to kiss her neck again if she didn't just move like _that,_ shifting against him in a way that makes his eyes roll back in his head.

"God," he groans, and looks up in time to see her lips twist into a smile.

"You don't have to call me that," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, and how she can focus on anything else while she twists her hips like _that,_ he'll never know. "But feel free."

He'd love to throw a witty retort back, but instead, he grinds his hips against her. She moans, falling partway forward onto him, and he thinks it's close enough. He increases his pace, judging his movements by the gasps and groans that fall from her lips, and by the time she freezes, her lips parted silently as she tightens around him, he's ready to follow her over the edge.

They stay like that, sweat-soaked skin sticking together, just long enough for her to catch her breath before she raises herself off him. He reaches out to her before he can think not to, and she hesitates for a brief second before laying back down.

"That was ..." he starts, and he's not quite sure how to finish. She smiles like she knows, and he has to stop himself from leaning forward to kiss her.

"Worth more than your lucky quarter," she says, and he grins, because yes, that's it exactly.

-

Six months later, he says _And I ask this not one hundred percent sure I want to know the answer,_ and she looks at him just long enough to make him remember.


End file.
